"Baby killer." I'm sitting here, staring at my screen, and the word keeps echoeing through my head.....

Steven's father called me that today.

You think it's bad out of context, wait until I tell you what happened.

Let's see.....hmm...Last Monday, Alexander was dehydrated, and we were at our wits end. I needed some sleep, Steven needed sleep, and Alex was a target of frustration for both of us. Before I did something stupid, I did the following things:

1) I called Child Protection Services
2) I called a social worker
3) I set up an appointment to get evaluated for PPD.
4) I called Sharon and asked her to watch Alex for the day while Steve and I got some sleep and some relaxation, to refocus.

So, Sharon watched Alex. Fed him some water, which we didn't know was safe or not-and I was nervous already.

We got sleep, Alex came home, and things were a helluvalot better. Steve and I had a bickering over money (please note last post).

Okay. SO. Robert, Steven's father, comes home, and requests as his only birthday wish is he wants Alexander to spend the night for his birhtday, which was on Friday. Steven and I were kinda...iffy, but we knew how much it meant to Robert, so we said yes. I stayed the night Thursday night, and Robert and I were talking.
I felt so alone, and so...unable to say anything about how I felt. Robert asked how I was feeling with Alex and everything, and...I told him about the Post Partum Depression.
Mistake #1. (NEVER tell Steve's parents ANYTHING)

Robert was slightly worried, but I told him I had social workers, CPS, counselors, La Leche League....all sorts of people calling me, and an on call nurse. I was okay. I had a wonderful support system.

Robert said: " It's the baby blues. Women and men go through it. I'm glad you're getting the help you need-and just know we're here to help you."

I said thanks. The next morning, Sharon and I went to the store, and she asked me how I was feeling, and if I was still really depressed: she looked sincere, and concerned.
I told her too....the episodes, the counselors, everything.
Mistake #2: Sharon is THE drama queen. I should've kept that in mind.

We took Robert out to Sonics for lunch, and went home to find Alex swimming in blankets, sleeping on his stomach, and I nearly flew across the house to flip him over. I mean, it scares me! I watched videos and stuff, and SIDS is really common if a baby is asleep on his or her stomach. They can suffocate so easily. Only put the baby on his or her stomach when they are awake to strengthen neck muscles...that's what I was taught.

Steve and I slept for a few hours, and then went home. Sharon and Robert thought that I was being a little pushy, and wasn't letting Steve get any sleep. But Steve had AMPLE opportunity to sleep all day-but he claimed he wasn't tired. That night, he was exhausted.

We went home, did some stuff with our friends Lisa and Brian, and Steve and I zonkered out at about 11:00. Steve woke up around 6:00 and stayed up...I don't know why, he had plenty of time he could sleep in, but he wanted to play video games. I slept until around 10:30.....I hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in a few days.

We get a call the next morning:

Robert said that he wasn't letting us take Alex home until I got evaluated. He didn't think Alex was safe with me.

My first response was pissed, fumingly so, and I raged. Then after I calmed down, I realised they were doing it because they were concerned. Granted, in Steve's and my eyes, they were way over-stepping their boundaries. But we knew it was out of love. Didn't matter as far as we were concerned, our son was coming home-with us.

Then disaster struck: Steven found out his brother, Chris, was in Spain, on-shore in the Navy, and had fallen, and broken his back. He was in the hospital, and couldn't feel his legs. Suddenly, everything changed in our minds. We immediately rushed to his parents house, to comfort them and to make sure everyone was okay. Little did I know that his parents were going to use the water works to try and sway Steve and I into staying at the house with them until my appointment-on Tuesday.

I didn't want to. No way in hell. Robert criticised, Sharon told me I was a vicious bitch to her son is 7000 biting ways, and Kelly seemed to agree with whatever Sharon said. I was done with my criticism for the month, so I was adamant about not liking being there. I promised Robert I would try not to be alone with Alex.

Robert and Sharon had decided I was to stay with them and take care of Alex, and I was definitely not wanting to do that. If anything, those people were driving me to commit multiple homicides. I wasn't going to stay.

Steve fell asleep, and his other sister Jen took me to go get my crib for Alexander. This was around 6:00 PM. We ate dinner, left, got the crib, came home. Steven slept for almost 5 hours. I tried to wake him up, because Steve works a night schedule, and last night he had deviated from that. It was vital that we got him back on his schedule so he wasn't dog tired when he went to work tomorrow night. He lifts and cuts and carries large loads. The last thing he needs is no sleep for 24 hours.

Sharon immediately got on my ass (again) about trying to keep Steven up all the time, and that he was a big boy, and to let him sleep. Regardless of if it affected his performance. Why was I constantly trying to make him stay up? Kelly chimed in and added how I was being selfish, and then so did Robert. Suddenly, I was being attacked by three people, and I was only doing the right thing by my family.

Sharon started saying that I was *abusive* and *psychotic* and she hoped Steven left me. I said, "You know what? Screw this. I don't have to sit here and take this. My son and I are leaving."

Sharon and Robert suddenly got very physically threatening, stood up and blocked the door and said I wasn't leaving. Sharon threatened to call the cops.

I dared her to.

Jen stopped the argument before things got physical. Alex was crying, Steve was very much so abruptly awakened by the absolute screaming match we had, and Kelly and Erik were heading out the door. Jen talked to us and calmed things down, pointing out to Sharon that I was right, Steve needed to be up. He worked a night shift-and he lifted heavy loads, the last thing he needed was to screw up his schedule.
Then she told me that Sharon was protecting Steven because he was her baby.

no comment.

Sharon went to bed, and I told Steven I wanted to go home. Robert told us it was fine if we went home (thanks for your permission, asshole) but I needed to be careful.

Right before we left, Robert told me two vital things:
1) "Stephanie, I know that I've paid your bills while Steve was out of a job, and helped you get on your feet. But I'm never gonna use that against you. Forget about paying us back, forget about it even happening. I'm not gonna rub it in your face."
2) You're a daughter to me, and I love you. No matter what.

Steve and I went home, and Steven stayed up while I slept, and then he ran to the store and got formula, and I stayed up with the baby, and fell back asleep.
5:30 THIS morning: Sharon calls. Informs Steven that unless I was taken to the hospital to get evaluated, she was calling the cops.

My interpretation: I had questioned Sharons authority. I had let her know that Steven was no longer a baby, and that I was more important in his life than she was. I had told her in no uncertain terms I was not going to be pushed around, and that she would not manipulate me.

Steven starts crying: he's torn apart. His family is attacking his, well, family. The baby is crying, I wake up, and take over, and Steve tells me what just happened. I get royally pissed, call the police department, and ask an Officer Johnson what my rights are. He tells me that she has no legal rights to the child, and I need to not worry about it.

Sharon calls the cops: Ironically, gets Officer Johnson to respond-he tells her to leave us alone, and that what she was doing was attempting to kidnap my child, and harassing us. She needed to stop. She immediately went from angry to bawling in less than a second, according to Officer Johnson. She claimed she was just concerned and didn't want anything to happen to her son.

I didn't want to be at my apartment. I called my parents, who immediately flipped out and wanted me to stay with them immediately. Steven drove me over, and I took the cell phone to stay in contact with him.

Robert called.

I was sleeping, or at least trying to, and missed the call, but then called him back. This is the horrendous conversation that followed:

Robert: Hello?

Me: Hey.

Robert: What do you want.

Me: uh..I was returning your call.

Robert: I was calling to talk to Steven, not you.

(wow, really adultlike)
Me:Oh. Well.....Robert, if it's about me, can't you just talk to me about t? I mean, it'd probably resolve a lot more?

*click*

I stared at the phone, and called him back.

R: WHAT.

M: Uh, did we lose the connection?

R: No, I hung up on you. You're a manipulative bitch who's controlling my son. You have no right to do what you're doing. YOu wont even let me speak to my son? I'm sick of your drama. You want to come in, drag us into this negative circle, tell us all this stuff, and then refuse to let us help you? I paid all your bills. I got you to where you are today. I can take it all away. You're nothing but a baby killer. Nothing but a controlling bitch. I'm gonna talk to my son whether you like it or not. And since this phone is on our plan, I'm turning it off. I told Steven if you started controlling him, and not letting him take the phone, to let me know. I'm gonna turn it off.

I was stunned. I was so hurt and I just lost it. My dad came in, saw me bawling, and held me and I told him what happened, and he nerly squeezed blood out of my arm, his grip tightened that much.
He told me that they were psychotic, and I knew where they stood. I needed to stay the hell away from them.

I called Steven, and the baby and I went home. Steve and I talked, and then he called his dad, who said that he had said some things that he didn't mean.

But it doesn't matter to me. He can apologie until he is blue in the face: They threatened me, used my son, and tried to take him from me. They insulted me to a grave degree, and I am TIRED of being used. They have NO RIGHT to do what they did. As concerned grandparents, fine....but they are psycho.

Ugh.

I'm so tired.....I just want to run away.

I'm trying to gain a focus on what I'm gonna write about, but it's taking some time.

The last few days seem to have known no end, because my days and nights are all switched around, and Alexander was getting to me pretty bad.

There was a point I began looking up suicide hot-line numbers: I felt like dying. I didn't think I was a good mother, I was angry all the time, Steve and I fought constantly, etc. I had no want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to move. I was worn, angry, and sad.

Sharon took the baby for the day and I got to spend the day with Steven, just him and I. It was nice, we got some much needed stuff done, and slept a lot.

That night, the baby came home, and I held him....Steve's dad gave him 20.00's for gas.

Now, a little history here. Steve's mom, and Steve's dad, this month alone, have probably given Steve over 100.00's in gas. I've watched them. And every time, I'd say, well, you just put 30.00's in, so let's do this instead-Steve would say, ACTUALLY.....
and then I'd get to hear this BS about him HAVING to get this or that.

He's stopped packing lunches, and I've noticed the lying levels went through the roof. That's the only thing Steve ever lies to me about, is money, and I can't stand a liar. I told him that.

So anyways, Steve set the 20.00's down and went to the living room. I immediately put the 20.00's in my wallet.

Steve came back in, saw the 20 in my wallet, and took it back. I knew he didn't need the gas money, he'd just put 15 in not even 2 days ago. And he'd driven maybe 25 minutes all together, since that time.

I asked him what he intended to do with the money, and he said put it in the gas tank. I didn't believe him, and decided it was time to gently have a talk with him about lying, money, and responsibility.
It didn't go well.

Me: Honey, I've noticed that you've gotten around 100.00's for gas this month, and barely any of it has been put into the gas tank.

Steve: What do you mean? Of course I've put it in there!

M: Well, actually, no you haven't. For two reasons: One, we've barely driven around this month. Maybe 3 or 4 times. You've gone to work, but work is really about 7 minutes away. Not only that, but you come home with tons of pocket change and reciepts.....what's going on?

(I figure I ought to give him a chance to explain himself)

S: Well, I've bought lunch a few times.

M: Why? We have enough food here: we have soups, sandwich stuff, chips, vegetables, fruits.....why?

S: Because, I forget to take lunches....

M: You mean, you sit here for the last 20 minutes before you go to work, play on the computer, and then you have the audacity to take what VERY LITTLE money we have to buy yourself lunch because you don't want to inconvenience yourself?

S: I can't take soup, and we have no bread.

M: Okay, we have tortilla shells, so you could make a wrap, OR we have bagels, you could make a sandwich that way! And why can't you make soup?

S: There's no microwa-

M: Oh, don't even sit there and tell me there isn't, Steven. I know for a fact there are, my friend John told me, and he works with you.

S: There's two. But when lunch time comes, everyone's hogging to use them, so I don't have time. They stand there for 10-15 minutes. And that cuts in to my smoke time.

M: So smoke first, THEN eat.

S: NO, I shouldn't have to.

M: You.....shouldn't....have to?

(deep breath)

SO, let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that you're spending money that could be used to get stuff we need, like milk, bread, butter, diapers, formula-and you're getting food....because you don't want to wait in line for a microwave, and it cuts into your fucking smoke time?

(Sorry for the language, but I'm keeping this as real to the conversation as possible, and at this point, I just wanted to punch him in the mouth.....really.)

S: I don't have to take your tone of voice.

M: Is this how you're gonna handle money? Because if you think you're eating convenience is more important than paying bills, or buying things the FAMILY needs, then you can just not come home tomorrow morning.

S: Oh, no. If you want to play it that way, my mom and I are on the lease. SO I would get possession of the apartment.

M: You're telling me that you'd kick me and your two week year old son out of the two bedroom apartment? Fine. We'll go. And you wont see either of us again. I don't have to deal with this shit, and I wont.

S:You always do this. Why do you constantly nag at me for everything? You always push me and accuse me and yell at me and tell me I'm not doing anything when I'm working my ASS off.

M: Funny how the tables have turned. Funny how when I was 7 months pregnant and the doctors wanted me on bedrest I continued to work, because you refused to get a job. Instead, you sat at home on the computer all day, got royally pissed when I asked you to at least clean the house, and had friends over all the time. In fact, the only time you went hunting for a job, I had to take time off of work, and hold your hand, and be the bitch to tell you to keep looking because you wanted to go home after grabbing two applications.

Pretty much it got petty from there, I really thought for sure I'd have to call my mom and stay the night there, or call Sharon and stay the night there. Although Sharon seems to think I'm in the wrong. Apparantly, me wanting Steve to come see me and the baby in the hospital was bad. Steve going home to sleep....and actually he played on the computer, or hung out with his brother...was what needed to happen, because he worked the night shift. I KNOW Steven. He goes home and is up for the first few hours after his shift. In fact, if I don't push him, he would stay up until 2 or 3 in the afternoon, like today, and only get 4 1/2 hours of sleep. And according to Sharon, Steve needs *alone time.*

Ah..right. Because me taking care of the baby 24-7 is....um....quite a bit of alone time. In between getting 2 or 3 hours of sleep, cleaning, breastfeeding, and trying to eat, my alone time is ABUNDANT! I have enough time to write a blog entry a day.

Steve gets 3-4 hours of playing online, emailing some cute girl that lives 1/2 an hour away from us, trying to get her to work the night shift with him, offering to spend our gas money to go out and get her--I'm so sick of it.

I'm so sick of all of it.

It's actually gotten this bad. It really has. I'm finally seeing that Steven, though he may love us, doesn't really care about what happens to us. I emailed my boss to tell her I wanted to start working again. I need to start saving money in case things get bad. That way I can find an apartment, and Alex and I will continue on in our lives.

But I don't need this. I don't want to wake up Steven only to have him redicule me or say something biting and hurtful. I don't want to fight. And I most definitely do NOT want to bicker.

This relationship is getting sour, fast. I want things to work out, but it's totally up to Mr. Moneybags. If he can't handle this paycheck, then I'm gonna set up rules that I need to start holding on to the money. And if Steven doesn't like that...well, then we'll know where the relationship ends. If money is more important than...family, I don't want any part of it. I'd rather stay at a Womens Shelter than in a house with a man who doesn't even care whether or not we're there.

It would hurt so bad to leave him....

but I have to think in the best interest of my son and I now. Arg.

Baby pictures! More to come, if Sharon ever lets me see 'em!

Steven got one of those retractable blade box cutter thingys from Walmart.



And.....he's cutting up the house.

I have NEVER seen anyone so eager to open up a bag of diapers before.

I went into the nursery this morning, and there was a large hole in the top of the diapers....and he'd cut open the bag of extra babywipes.

Great. Lucky for me that I got to them in time, otherwise we'd have lost 250 baby wips because Steve didn't want to use the perforated line at the top of the RESEALABLE package--nope! He went below all the riff raff and cut a nice, solid line into the baby wipes.

Maybe if I melted the knife....

Next thing you know, he'll be taking the *magic marker* thy gave him and start writing things on the babies stuff. And he'll have a valid reason.

Some men are just too eager to play with sharp objects.

As Alex sits in his cutsie little vibrating chair, I look around blogstream, and found two people that were purdy nifty.

MluyhaUprooted
Attitude Engineer

Mluhya is absolutely fascinating! I read her stories, all the way from the beginning, and I was kicking myself for not seeing her blog earlier. Oddly, since I always seem to see it featured, or updated recently, or something. Anyone who's ever been frustrated needs to read her story. Just recently, she was working Wimbledon. Sweet!

Attitude Engineer is a chaplain, and pretty much chaplains that go anywhere are always gonna have a soft spot in my heart, since my Grandpa was Washington NG Head Chaplain-he followed them faithfuly to Iraq....and just came back-after having his precious Hummer blown apart. He shows remorse for that. Heh.
SOmething he wrote on his 100 Things About Me List....but this one REALLY stood out.

Religious people don't like my sermons, but alcoholics and addicts love them.

I have a confession to make: Something happened to me that I didn't write about. Partly because I was embarassed. I haven't even told Steven about it yet. And partly because I don't know what to think. My heart is tired of trying to believe and live the good life of a Christian. It seems all I do is sacrifice when I'm at church, when I'm out of church, and it seems I give up so much.

But then, as I think about it, it was the best time of my life, and I had never felt as good about myself as I did that period of my life, where being fit and healthy were uber important-physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Where did I stray? Men. I have put men before God, because men gave me what I believe God could not. Physical comfort. Not just sex, but hugs, snuggling, hand holding. Secret smiles that show adoration. Inside jokes. Mushy names.

God and I had "mushy ames"-names that we called each other and got that feelign of warmth. I called him Father. He called me His Own, Daughter, Friend, Servant...etc.

The experience I had was when my old room mate Jen came over. Jen is a petite girl with a beautiful voice,....think Ginny Owens (and if you don't know her, KNOW!) glasses, and a spunky, God-loving attitude that made me wish to be like her.

Anyways, Jen was talking to me about how she wished she could do all sorts of things-and how she and her fiance Chris were taking a week off because God had reminded them of their focus, and they realised it was beginning to be more on each other than God.

She says she saw the hunger in my face, eyes, as she talked about not being able to see Chris for a week. But at the same time, I saw the contentment and the absolute faith she had in doing so. For her, there is this great purpose, this great feeling, this absolute faith in what she believes. I want that. I want to have a deep faith in God. I want to KNOW he exists, not just understand He made everything. I want to balance my life out again, face the challenges that are, and go forth.
I'm just afraid that I wont be able to do it-again. What if I let God down-again? I can't stand it.

I have a hard time letting go, as you might tell.

Anyways, Jen and I were talking, and something deep inside me was getting...edgy. Like a caged feeling-only it was caged because of anger, not because of restlessness. I felt something stir inside of me, and suddenly I knew IT was back-the thing that had pulled me under with Steve. It was there, angry at Jen-how dare she talk about God, it seemed. It grew more agitated the more Jen talked about this experience she had, or how great God was for that event she went to.

Jen felt it. Felt the rage. Felt the....IT inside.

I eagerly began to pour out how I felt, how I was in fear for Alex's life because I didn't know when IT would take over again. Something inside grew very angry, and promptly I was telling her to go away-I had an appointment to go to-which wasn't true at all.

Jen figured it out.

"Do you want to be free, Stephanie?"

"You just have to forgive yourself-God has already forgiven you."

I dont really understand what happened next, only that when I was myself again, Jen was crying, and holding me, and....the anger was gone. For the first time in such a long, long time.....everything was okay. I felt...safe.

It was an odd day.

Steven doesn't know yet, but only because I don't know that I ought to tell him. I don't feel a need to- in fact, I feel a fear of telling him. Which means....I probably should. Maybe I will when I see him in the morning.

maybe.